Well, since the last trip I knew I needed to go back. The extreme situation these humans have to face just breaks the hell out of my heart. After discovering how impactful this clown work could be to the situation, I just constantly ached to come back. I also wanted to do a better job of documenting my experience and showing the refugees in a positive light to the rest of the world.

This new rhetoric of xenophobia used for political power makes me utterly disgusted, like my eyes want to vomit screams or something. Being on the ground, listening to, clowning for, and being playful with Arabic people of all kinds has destroyed my tolerance for prejudice. It’s extremely stupid to hate Muslims for being Muslim, for example. So I have to use whatever privilege I have to attempt to better the situation.

Thousands of refugees have been forced by circumstance to leave their homes in war torn countries like Syria, Afghanistan, and Iraq in search of a better life in Western Europe. Last November the Emergency Circus traveled 3,500 miles through 8 countries traveling alongside these refugees performing in stations, refugee camps, buses, trains and squares. We brought music, laughter, and empathy to countless masses in dire situations.

The project was so well received and so desperately needed that we’ve decided we must return, this time beginning at the Syrian border and sharing the entire journey with the refugees, not only to relieve stress and deliver joy through circus along the way, but also to understand and document the struggle of these humans during this massive migration.

“She was a Christian and they tried to kill her but there was a rock that got split in half and some shepherds disguised her or something like that,” Says Sabine, “But I’m the worst person to ask about these things.” Halloween Christmas is today in Lebanon.

At 5:11pm the speedometer shakes just under 45. No cop would ever pull over an ambulance driving 9 miles over the speed limit on Christmas day. The children will be ready for us in less than an hour. I still have to pick up Special Head before we meet the rest of the circus at the park. I suppress the urge to just flip the switch and turn the emergency light bar on. We’ll make it.

It’s 5 am in Beirut, Lebanon. The birds outside sound like slide whistles while my jetlagging mind is racing. After 40 hours of planes and airports, of which I probably spent 6 hours sleeping between the hard carpet of Washington D.C. airport and upright in a stiff seat intermittently interrupted by Germans pouring red wine, I arrived in Lebanon, ready to extinguish all kinds of stigmas my narrow United States of American upbringing has given me. I know by now expectations are always illusory but also that one never knows which unexpectations to expect. Just a few weeks ago Clowns Without Borders contacted me out of the blue asking if I was available to drop my life and travel halfway across the globe to a war torn country to work for free donning a red nose and huge pants in order to be laughed at in a different language just a bird’s view away from active heavy conflict.

I was only shot once today, by a 9 year old in the thigh while clowning in a football field. These children were mostly palestinian refugees who've been in Jordan for a while, some Syrian. While we boarded the bus to leave the stadium, a cheap yellow piece of plastic from a toy pistol bounced off my leg. Only because they didn't want us to go. I think. Or maybe they were just little boys raised in violence.